


Sweet and Parched

by voleuse



Category: House
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-28
Updated: 2005-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-04 07:37:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything wears her down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet and Parched

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for 2.07.

_This may surprise you but after the forty days  
The sunshine left us helpless._   
\- Agha Shahid Ali

 

It was a bad idea from the very beginning.

That doesn't mean she regrets it.

*

 

_She smokes it, because they would notice track marks, and she's been susceptible to nosebleeds._

_While she waits for the effects to hit, she mentally reviews the side effects of methamphetamines, a dry paragraph from an introductory textbook._

_It's almost an hour later when she realizes she's stripped off her blouse, her slacks, and she keeps turning her stereo up, because she likes the way the music feels against her skin._

_She picks up the phone and dials Chase._

*

 

The morning after the morning after, she can feel Chase watching her as she pours herself a cup of coffee.

She doesn't look back at him, hasn't looked at him since she walked in the door and said hello to Foreman.

Instead, she waits for House to start his daily rant about their latest patient. It's the usual mix of sarcasm, accusation, and curiosity, and she tunes it out almost completely.

She leans against the counter and tips her face down, looks sidelong at Chase. His tie is loosely knotted, and a lock of hair falls against his cheek.

And for a second, she imagines wrapping her fist around his tie, tugging him out of his chair and--

"Cameron, run a CAT scan," House orders. "We might as well check for the obvious."

Her mug trembles in her hand. "Right," she says.

House raises an eyebrow.

"CAT scan," she repeats, firming her jaw. "Got it."

She sweeps out of the room, walking the long way around the conference table, and ignores Foreman when he laughs.

*

 

_She walks backward, drawing him towards the bedroom, but she miscalculates, distracted as they shed their clothing, and they stumble into the doorway by the kitchenette instead._

_She doesn't care, doesn't care for anything but the hum of her blood in her veins, the way his fingertips trace her spine, tap against her ribs. He tastes like mint and sincerity, and when he moans, it echoes into her, trembling._

_He's asking her something, and his eyes are filled with doubt and hope. She shuts her eyes so she doesn't have to meet his, and she answers him with another kiss._

*

 

It's a few days later when Chase manages to catch her alone. Everyone else is at lunch, and she's testing makeup for bacterial agents.

He saunters into the lab as if by accident, and she wonders when, exactly, she stepped into a bad episode of _CSI_.

"Are you avoiding me?" Chase asks, almost casually.

She glances up at him, then back at the sample. "I'm thinking House needs to add a forensic scientist to the team, if we're going to keep breaking into people's houses for medical evidence."

"That's not an answer," he replies.

She takes a breath, sighs.

He's not wearing cologne today.

"We can still be friends," he says. "Colleagues. Whatever."

She drums her fingers against the counter. "I haven't used a mass spectrometer since college."

He watches her until the test is completed, then walks away.

*

 

_They make it as far as the kitchen table, and she shoves his pants and boxers off his hips, even as he fumbles with the clasp of her bra._

_When he dips his head, takes one of her nipples inside his mouth, she braces her hands against the edge of table, lets loose a wail._

_His breath is hot against her neck, and he's talking again, interspersing words with light kisses, and she drags one hand down his back, nails hard and blunt._

_"Shut up," she snarls, and she likes the way his teeth bare when he smiles. _

_He pulls away from her for a second, bends to his discarded clothing and pulls a foil packet from the folds of his wallet._

_She hisses. _Almost forgot_. Watches him avidly, and then he's pressing her against the table, yanking her panties off._

_She raises on her toes, wraps a leg around his hips, and he's so close, just barely slipping inside her._

_Then she finally discerns his question, as he asks it another time._

_"Are you sure?" She can feel his pulse under his hands, against her breasts, between her legs. His chest hitches as he tries to catch his breath, and she's going to burn into cinders if he doesn't _move_._

_She grasps his face between her palms and manages to look him in the eye._

_"Chase," she enunciates carefully, then she arches, quickly, roughly, drawing him in, and he makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat._

_She smirks, lets out a long and tangled laugh. "Finally," she groans, as he clutches her hips and thrusts._

*

 

Foreman corners her as she checks her e-mail. He doesn't say anything, just looks at her.

"What?" she says, and rolls her eyes, preemptively.

He frowns. "It doesn't suck, working here."

"Right," she says. "Glad to have you on the team."

"You're screwing it up," he continues. "Both of you."

She blinks, and then he's gone.

*

 

_She wakes up in her bed, and Chase is sitting next to her, holding a glass of water._

_Her heart is pounding, and she groans as she sits up, takes the water and gulps._

_"What time is it?" she asks._

_He glances at the clock. "Almost two." He takes the glass back from her, swishes the remaining water thoughtfully. "I should go home. I don't have any clothes--"_

_"It's okay," she cuts in. "Fine. You're right."_

_After a minute, he nods. "Try to get some rest. You'll need it."_

_She waves him off with a smile, and she's asleep again before he's out the door._

*

 

She finds him in the cafeteria, nursing a lukewarm cup of tea.

He sits back, eyes wary as she approaches. "Hey."

"Hey." She pulls a chair over. Sits down and folds her hands in her lap. "So."

He lifts the styrofoam cup, then sets it down again.

"It won't happen again," she says. "We both agreed it shouldn't."

He scrapes his thumbnail against the styrofoam.

"That's it, right?" she asks.

"Right." He taps his foot, sits up straighter.

She starts to say more, say _something_, but her pager goes off, then his.

He offers her a quick smile as they stand. "Back to work."

"Yeah," she replies, and he lets her lead the way.


End file.
